I’ve heard that one of my high school teachers drank Scotch and smoked cigars right in front of his freshman theology classes when they were taking a test. He never did anything like that with us, though: He liked his Latin students.
He’s still teaching there. As a monk at a monastery-run school, he’s basically unfireable. Or as the plaque on his desk said, “They can’t fire me; slaves have to be sold”.
I don’t remember much about my Shakespeare class in grad school, but the professor leapt up to a window like that and was doing something with the window. He was around 5’5" and 130 lbs, and according to people who’d known him awhile, down from 180+ lbs.
Now you have to say it!
I had a substitute teacher a few times over the years who had this…lesson? he always gave on inertia. Didn’t matter what the subject of the class was; he would give his inertia lesson. It consisted of having a student come to the front of the class and hold their fingers an inch apart while he dangled a dollar bill between them. He would say, “concentrate… concentrate… concentrate…” and then yell “inertia” at the moment he let go of the dollar. If the student was quick enough to catch the dollar, they got to keep it. To this day I’m not sure what we were supposed to learn from it, exactly, but we all enjoyed it.
We had a religion teacher who was well known for his very inappropriate and very off-color stories, usually about perverts of various types. One of his famous stories is of him going to a urinal at some restroom in New York City when the guy next to him leans over and says to him: “Hey, buddy! Looks you got a nice dick. Want a blow job?” Yes, this is our religion teacher telling us this story. Apropos of what? I’m not sure. Another story was about his college roommate walking around campus, chanting “I must release sperm!” to himself. And then there was some story about catching a guy whacking off on the bus. I always imagined the stories were about himself. For a class of all-male high school students, we found this highly entertaining and only slightly weird.
Meanwhile, my French teacher was this late 20-something blonde. Being a moderately attractive female in a school full of pubescent boys, she was the subject of schoolboy fantasies. She would eat bananas during class (and I have pictures to prove it), not in a wholly suggestive manner purposely, but there’s only so many ways of eating a banana. Why she had to do it in the middle of French class, I don’t know. She would also go around class and occasionally massage students’ shoulders (including mine) as they were doing work. The idea of a teacher touching a student in any way in this day and age seems so completely out-of-bounds to me.
My typing teacher was an affable nutball who liked to call everyone “sugarbritches” and talk about his years in Vietnam. I don’t remember any good anecdotes, but he always seemed a bit more than just “quirky.” Years after I graduated, he didn’t show up for work for three days straight and his dead body was found in his house, stabbed to death by a sex worker he picked up from Backpage. Apparently, he got drunk, ordered a couple prostitutes to his house and had an argument about payment that escalated and got out of hand.
Marcia Fuqua, my high school art teacher (She is dead and the case has been well publicized, so I’m not telling any tales out of school) had a tiny framed painting in the hallway of her house. The ornate frame said “Renoir,” but she said it was a fake.
It was not a fake.
She boosted it from the Baltimore Art Museum as a student in 1951. After she died, her daughter tried to pass it off as a flea market buy, but too many people from the 1970s and 80s recalled seeing it in her house.
The piece was neither major nor (for a Renoir) valuable; there was a reason she was able to pilfer it from the museum’s warehouse unnoticed. But…wow.
About the same time; mid-1970s. I was in high school, and it wasn’t unusual for students to smoke. I was one such, as many of us were.
Anyway, my history teacher (who also smoked) was notorious for forgetting his cigarettes in the car, at home, and just plain being out of them. He decided that I was an easy touch: “Hey, Spoons, can I get a smoke from you? I’ll pay you back later.” I always complied–a little worried that if I didn’t, I’d get a lousy grade in history–but it irked me a little that payback never came, and never seemed like it would come, no matter how many times I heard, “I’ll pay you back later.”
It was the last day of school. The history teacher hands me a paper bag. “Open this later, not in class. And thank you so much.” Ohhh-kay; what the heck is this all about? When I did look into the bag later, well out of class, I found a carton of cigarettes, and they were my brand. Yep, he did indeed make good on his promise to pay me back later!
There was this one guy, taught Spanish and French, that I heard about from my older sister who was a few years ahead.
Now, the stories were pretty unbelievable, even to a 15 year old.
It was said that he stood in the back of the class during film strips, and would pick his nose and eat his boogers, or stash them in his horrible mustach for later enjoyment… whatever. I didn’t buy into. Just talk about the weird guy.
Then I had a class with him.
All true. Witnessed first hand. Really fucking nasty, and it turns out much worse.
He’s doing time in the State Pen for ‘Naughtyness’. Sick Mother-Fucker.
My third grade teacher (62-63) tied a girl to a chair with a jump rope for some reason I’ve now forgotten. We went to school together until we graduated and I don’t remember her being a trouble maker so I guess it worked.
Of course you can. Twist his trunk until he turns blue, then shoot him.
I went to Catholic school for 12 years, with many classes taught by nuns who had no business teaching (but they had joined a teaching order, so…). So many things happened which would be familiar to those who went to such a school, and incomprehensible to those who did not.
First grade was Sister R. She would hit you for making a mistake. Not just misbehaving (though you got smacked for that, of course), but genuinely making a mistake. Bitch. A few days into the school year, one kid got into it with her; my memories are vague but I recall him running screaming out of the classroom (I think she may have been dragging him). He got put in the other first grade class after that day.
And in second grade, we had a lay teacher (i.e., a real person, not a nun). Generally we liked her but for some reason, after our first quarterly report cards came out, she made a couple of the kids who did most poorly go back down to our former first grade class and show it to Sister R - who smacked them so hard she knocked one of them down.
And our parents didn’t intervene. This was just how things were in the early 1960s.
In fourth grade, we had two classes with Sister T. She had a reputation of being pretty vile, though she was far better than Sister R. I actually got along with her OK. But it was our class (which only had her for two lessons a day) which was treated to her losing her lunch one day, and tripping and falling and breaking her arm on another occasion. I guess we were special.
I had an econ professor at WCU, don’t remember his name, but he did his best to make the subject interesting. He was like Jeff Ross, but not nearly as mean-spirited. The first day of class, he came in and said “Yeah, too bad about Appalachian (our big rival). Oh didn’t you hear? Their library burned down. Yeah, they lost both books. One of them hadn’t even been colored yet.”
Our classroom was all individual desks laid out in a grid, and he’d walk up and down the aisles while he was lecturing. It was an effective way of keeping us awake. On Halloween, he did his lecture wearing an Incredible Hulk mask. He got too hot after a while and eventually took it off. A real character.
Ah, if only. 
Our chem teacher did that - on open house night.
“Real People” was our go-to topic once a week to distract the science teacher
Eighth grade science teacher said that sound varies from 20 to 20,000 dB, and 0 to 120 hz. Oops.
Fifth grade teacher thought that AD stood for After Death (he may have just been looking for someone (me) to disagree).
But the weirdest fellow was the 7th grade English teacher. Half our class was going to be away on Chorus field trip (Beatlemania in Manhattan) - on the day he had reserved for review before the midterm. Naturally the chorus kids were a bit concerned, but the schedule could not be changed. Come the day of the test; upon entering the classroom, every desk has a copy of the test, face down, and we are instructed to wait until he says “go” to flip it over. He says “Go” and everyone flips the test over - and the kids who did not go on the field trip start singing “Over in the Meadow” - the lyrics of which were on the supposed “test” sheet.
One of my French teachers was trying to immerse all us 12 year olds in French culture to liven up our language classes - stand up and sing the Marseillaise, that kind of thing.
Well one week she decided to teach us about French food, and introduce us to the exotica that was Pain au Chocolat. This was the 80s, we had never seen such things, and it transpired neither had she, as she proudly handed us all a bread roll and a bar of Cadbury’s Dairy Milk chocolate, which we then ate. It was a little on the dry side.
In high school (1970s) the guy who taught “health” and driver’s education was a total idiot. I was driving one day in driver’s ed, the teacher was in the passenger seat and the second student was in the back seat.
The teacher fell asleep, sound asleep. Ordinarily, he would tell the driver where to turn, etc, but being asleep he no longer gave directions. I got on the highway (something we never did ordinarily). He woke up and freaked out.
He was flustered. He gave me directions back to school, and wanted to punish me, but there was a Catch-22, namely that he was asleep. Any punishment and I would fight it. I got on the highway because he never told me to turn. Dude hated my guts.
I had a Sunday school teacher tell me that! I remember being confused as to how the years between his birth and death were counted. I think I asked, and I don’t think she was very happy with me for being a questioning heathen, but that part of the memory is hazy.
You asked.
I had a woman teacher, 9th grade, who in the middle of teaching started stripping. She kept teaching while doing so. She got all the way there. One of the girls snuck out and got the principal. She was pretty attractive to.
The Principal then told us she had to go bye-bye and we never saw her again.
Many years later, when I flirted with teaching, I saw the Principal again and she was brought up. He basically said she was kind of unstable mentally but they thought she was doing fine (her first year). He also said he received NO complaints and didn’t make the news for which he was surprised and grateful. That meant this happened and NONE of the 25 or so students told anyone. We liked her…very much…but for a group of 9th graders to not shout what happened over bullhorns still amazes me.
Told you that you wouldn’t believe me 
I had a teacher once accuse me and four or five other students of plagiarizing each others’ work.
It was a group project. We were all in the same group.
I haven’t seen that exact circumstance… but I’ve seen things close enough that I don’t have a hard time believing it at all.
My fifth grade teacher was decent enough to accept a dictionary as proof I was right.
I think he was the one that implied that vision works by light leaving the eye, bouncing off the object and then bouncing back to the eye, too.